Of Felons and Men
by GBlove
Summary: Bennett's ex-girlfriend shows up at Litchfield to film a documentary on prison life. Daya & Bennett. Multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

It seemed as if everything might actually work out for John Bennett. He'd taken Daya's advice and stopped being a pussy and confessed. He didn't get sent to prison. And he got to stay with Daya and the baby. Miracle.

"I still can't believe you're still here," Daya murmured as Bennett kissed her neck one morning outside by the tobacco shack.

"I know," he said, "and the best part of Caputo knowing: I asked if I can bring in those vitamins you wanted and actual real food for you and he said I can do what I want, as long as no one knows and I leave him out of it." He smiled at the look of surprise that bloomed across her face.

"Wait, really? You gotta get me some of that Mexican dark chocolate they sell in the city, baby. Oh, and pineapple juice and honey mustard with pickles to dip in it. Also, funfetti cupcakes, but with no frosting, just almond butter."

"Anything else?" he asked, a slightly disgusted look on his face.

She thought for a moment. "A watermelon."

He laughed and said, "I'll do my best," and then, "You're pretty lucky, you know. I bet you're the only pregnant woman in prison who's ever had a CO bring her chocolate." He touched her hair absentmindedly.

"Oh yeah, I'm so lucky," she said sarcastically, "Who wouldn't want to be pregnant in prison?"

"You know, I got arrested once," He said, changing the subject.

"You?" She gave him a funny look.

"Yeah," He laughed a little at the memory, "I was fifteen, and I was pissed off at my dad so I decided to sneak out at like three in the morning, climb over the fence into my neighbor's yard and have a hot tub party with three friends. The lady who lived there heard us and called the cops. My dad refused to pick me up until the morning, so I spent the night in the town jail cell."

"Wow, one night in the town jail cell. Must have been so hard for you," She rolled her eyes affectionately.

"Come on, I was fifteen. It was terrifying."

"When I was fifteen, I watched my mom and her sugar daddy bag heroin at the kitchen table while I ate my cereal every morning." She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Okay, you win."

Smiling, she bit her lip and stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "What's my prize?"

...

Two weeks had passed since Bennett's confrontation with Joe Caputo, but the older, mustached man still couldn't shake the feeling of paranoia over the idea of screwing up so soon after his promotion.

"Alright people, listen up," Caputo's wilted voice rang throughout the cafeteria at lunch that day, "Apparently, upon the resignation of Natalie Figueroa," he paused for a brief moment to smile to himself, "and the promotion of yours truly, Litchfield has yet again attracted the attention of the media. Some documentary filmmaker, for reasons I'll never understand, wants to do a story on the _wonders of prison life. _What she gets out of it is a mystery to me, but for us, it's a perfect opportunity to demonstrate what a fine establishment this place is," he looked around the room as several murmurs broke out, "And she's paying us a _generous _amount for our time, so if everyone cooperates, I'm sure that money will be used in your best interests," he clasped his hands together, "This being said, when the film crew arrives two days from now, you're all going to behave; you're going to be civil. No one is going to attack anyone," he made eye contact with Chapman, "no one is going to start a political protest," his eyes shifted to Soso and Yoga Jones, "and no one is going to engage in inappropriate sexual activity." For this one, he just had to look at everyone. "What you _are_ going to do, is speak highly of the administration, and make the audience believe there's no better place on earth to be incarcerated. Can you do that? Good. Have a nice lunch."

Over at Daya's table, Aleida asked her daughter how she was feeling.

Daya shrugged. "Fine, I guess," then her eyes lit up, "But I'll be better soon. John's gonna sneak in food for me. He's bringing me chocolate and pineapple juice and anything I crave."

"Santa's back," said Gonzales with a devious grin, "Hey, tell him to get me-"

"No," Daya cut her off, shaking her head, "He made a deal with Caputo to _only _bring in what I need for the baby. Vitamins and shit. Not porn or ipods or whatever you made him get for you before."

"Don't they give you prenatal vitamins at the clinic? I'm pretty sure Maria got them when she was knocked up." Maritza took a bite of her sandwich.

"You think the government cares about that shit?" Aleida cut in, "When I had Daya the state gave me all kinds of stuff: baby food, diapers...but no vitamins; they don't give a fuck if you _healthy _or not. Plus, I think it's all bullshit anyway. Tons of people smoke and drink when they're pregnant and their kids turn out fine."

Daya rolled her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, "And that's exactly why I'm not taking advice from you."

...

_March 3rd, 2008_

_"I miss women," sighed Lewis, earning collective nods from Moore and Jackson. "Wh__at about you, Bennett? You got a girl waiting for you back home?"_

_Bennett just shook his head and continued to clean his M39 rifle. "No, I don't," he said eventually._

_"I've got a fiance back in Florida," smiled Moore, gazing out the bunk window, "Eileen." He took a folded piece of paper out of the front pocket of his utility jacket. "This came from her yesterday morning. She told me she's pregnant," his smile broadened._

_All the guys slapped him on the back and Bennett said, "Congrats, man," then turned back to polishing his gun._

_..._

_Daya walked along the crowded streets of the South Bronx with two of her little sisters, one on either side of her, clutching her hands tightly._

_"Alright, spell...curtain," she said to Lucy._

_"C-U-R-T-A-I-N," the little girl said proudly, holding on to the strap of her Hello Kitty backpack with her free hand._

_"Now Eva, what's four plus seven?"_

_She waited as her sister counted on her fingers, then announced, "Eleven."_

_"Perfect."_

_This had been Daya's everyday routine since her mom was arrested. She'd walk Eva and Lucy to and from school, get things done while all the kids were gone, then help them with their homework before putting them to bed._

_She'd allowed Christina and Emiliano to ride the bus to school since they were older, but she didn't feel comfortable letting the others; she remembered the fights that would break out on buses when she was in school._

_Every day, while they walked the four blocks between their apartment and Robertson Elementary School, Daya would quiz the girls on what ever they were learning currently. She felt it was her job to make sure they had a better chance at life than she did, make sure they didn't end up in prison like their mother._

_..._

Bennett was scheduled to work fourteen hours the day the film crew was to arrive; Caputo had all hands on deck to see that everything went smoothly, although, Bennet knew that wasn't likely to happen given Litchfield's track record.

After breakfast, a blue van pulled up outside the front doors, followed by a black Honda Accord. Bennett was waiting outside, along with Caputo and O'Neil ready to greet everyone.

Two men and one woman got out of the van and started unloading equiptment. Then, from the black car, out stepped a thin, blonde woman who made her way around to where the guards stood. Bennett squinted at her through the sunlight, then felt his insides freeze up.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

Caputo glanced at him, "What? What's the matter with you?"

"John Bennett?" The woman took off her sunglasses and stopped in front of him.

"Hi Claire," he said flatly, with a quick glance at Caputo.

"You two know each other?" asked O'Neil.

Bennett sighed. "Meet Claire Reynolds. My ex."

...


	2. Chapter 2

"So this is the common room," Bennett was saying to Claire as he led her and the other crew members around on a prison tour. Naturally, Caputo had appointed him tour guide, since he and Claire were "already acquainted" as he'd put it.

"And what goes on in here?" She asked, stopping by the doorway.

"Uh, you know, normal...prison stuff. They play cards and have group meetings, do yoga..." He neglected to mention the numerous fights, rallies, confrontations and protests that had taken place within the room, thinking of Caputo's speech two days before.

Claire nodded and started walking again. "So, how have you been John? I haven't seen you in, I don't know, almost ten years."

"Yeah, yep," he nodded and stared at the floor, "It sure has been a while. I'm fine. I've just been working a lot. What about you?"

"Well, I got my masters in cinematography from NYU. Ever since then I've just been living in the city and making a few documentaries here and there. And to pay the bills I work a desk job at CBS."

"Wow, that's great Claire. I remember you always wanted to work in the film industry."

"Thanks John," she smiled at him, holding their gaze a little too long. He quickly looked away and went on to show her the cafeteria.

* * *

_April 14th, 2006_

_"I have to get an abortion, John. We can't keep it."_

_"I know, I know. It just feels weird hiding it from everyone." He got up and began pacing around his dorm room._

_She shook her head. "I'm Mormon, John. You know my parents would make us drop out of college and get married."_

_"I'm Mormon too, Claire. And you don't-"_

_"Not really, you haven't been to church in like eight years. Trust me, this would be the end of our lives. Just drive me to the clinic tomorrow morning."_

_"Okay, fine. If it's what you want." He looked out at campus through the window. He'd only come to BYU because they were offering him the best scholarship; he hadn't actually considered himself a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints for many years. But he did know that when you were a member, you weren't supposed to have sex before marriage. He and Claire broke that rule three weeks ago. They had only done it once. Abortions were also frowned upon, but they had to break that rule in order to cover up the first rule they broke. This was why he should have listened to his dad and just joined the army._

* * *

_"This is bullshit," Aleida spat over the phone at Daya. "You tell Cesar he better get his ass over here to see me. I've been in this shitbox for eight. Fucking. Months. Do you hear me? You tell him-"_

_"Why don't you tell him? You have his number. I'm a little busy here, Aleida." She craned her neck to look around the wall to make sure the kids were all doing their homework._

_"Aleida? I'm your fucking mother. You better show me some fucking respect, Dayanara. And you better tell Cesar to shove-"_

_Daya pressed the phone back onto its holder. "Bitch," she muttered, walking away._

* * *

"It's insane," Bennett told Daya later that day, "Of all the prisons in the world she could have picked, my college girlfriend has to pick this one."

"Well you said you only dated for like a year. I don't see what the big deal is." She started to undo his belt, hoping to take his mind off everything.

"I just...don't like reminders of my life back then, and she's one."

"Babe, calm down. We both have bigger things to worry about. Like you bringing me food. Did you get my chocolate?" She stopped what she was doing and crossed her arms. "What are you staring at?"

"Daya, you're bleeding." Bennett's face had gone pale and he was staring at the crotch of her khakis, which were splotched with bright red. For a minute they both just stood there looking at it, saying nothing.

"You need to go to the clinic," he told her, pulling on her hand and opening up the supply closet door.

"Your belt," she reminded him.

"No time," she said, out of breath, pulling her out the door.

"Okay, seriously, calm down. I watched my mom through four pregnancies and this happens all the time; it don't mean nothing's wrong." She looked up and down the hallway to make sure they were alone, then re-buckled his belt, shaking her head. "What's with you today?"

"My life," he said wearily, looking up at the ceiling.

"Huh?"

He looked at her. "Oh, I don't know, it's just that you'll find when it gets to the point where you're in the same building as your ex-girlfriend, and your baby mama, and that building happens to be a prison, and your baby mama happens to be an inmate, and your ex-girlfriend is there to _film it all, _you tend to look back on your life choices."

The corners of Daya's mouth tilted up. "Well when you put it like _that. _Is it just me, or do you ever feel like our lives would make a really good reality TV show?"

"Hey, that's not a bad idea. If we ever get desperate enough for money..." He grinned for a brief moment then turned serious again.

"But really, you have to go to the clinic. Now."

She sighed. "Yes, officer."

* * *

Bennett had told Daya he'd wait outside the clinic for her while she saw the doctor, and he was doing just that, pretending to be keeping watch on the area, when Claire walked up, no camera crew in sight.

"John," she said as she approached him.

Having been lost in thought, his head shot up at her voice. "Oh, hi. Uh, what's up?" He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Well, since you cut out early on our tour this morning , I decided I would take matters in to my own hands and get the lay of the land. The place is a lot bigger than I expected." She looked around.

"Yeah," he nodded and smiled politely, "it's...large."

"Okay, I'm sorry," she said, "is my being here making you feel weird?"

"What? No! Why, why would you ask that, I-I love that you're here."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah...well maybe we need to catch up. Would you like to get a drink tonight when you get off? I passed this bar on my way up-"

"I have a girlfriend," he blurted out.

"Oh? Oh, I mean I wasn't trying to...she could even come if you wanted, I just thought it would be nice to catch up."

"She can't come. She, uh, lives in Montana. It's a long distance relationship but we make it work. Well, no she actually doesn't live there but her mother lives there, who's very sick, so she's been staying with her the past few months."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. So is tonight good then?"

Bennett found himself answering "Okay," and then Claire was walking back down the hall.

"What the fuck just happened..." he muttered to himself, "Fucking Montana?"

"What about Montana?" He heard Daya's voice behind him.

He swung around. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine. He did a couple tests and said not to worry."

He sighed with relief. "Good." He glanced around quickly then leaned down to kiss her.

"Were you talking to yourself?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah. Claire asked me to get drinks tonight. So I panicked and told her I have a girlfriend in Montana and that I couldn't go, but she said it was just as friends and I couldn't say no."

"Why'd you say you have a girlfriend in Montana?"

"As opposed to what? Saying that I have one here?"

"No, to just not saying you have one at all."

"But what if she tries to...you know, seduce me?"

Daya tried to suppress her grin. "I think you'll be fine, baby. Besides, it'll be good for you to get out. You spend all your time either here or watching sports on your couch. You need to socialize."

He was about to reply when another CO walked by, so he put on his "stern" voice and said to Daya, "I don't care if it's time to watch Jersey Shore, Diaz, If I catch you running again I'm writing you up."

* * *

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you think in the review section!**


	3. Chapter 3

"That's her," Daya said, nodding in the direction of Claire, who was interviewing Gloria about running the kitchen, that evening at dinner.

"Aye," Aleida said, scrunching up her face in disapproval.

Maritza nodded in agreement. "Looks like a slut if I ever seen one."

Daya smiled weakly, grateful for the support, but even she couldn't deny that Claire was pretty. With her bouncy, strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes and thin frame, she looked like one of Eva's Barbies. And she was _constantly _smiling and laughing with all of the inmates and guards. Daya was beginning to have second thoughts about being so keen on Bennett going out with her later.

"You're much sexier than that, Daya," Maria said, handing a tray to an inmate in line for food, but not taking her eyes off Claire. "Look at that flat ass. And she _definitely_ a member of the itty bitty titty committee." All the girls broke out in laughter, even Daya.

"Thanks guys," she said, spotting Bennett across the cafeteria talking to Bell. She watched him for a minute before glancing back at Claire. "Yeah," she said, nodding, "Her ass is flat."

* * *

So there Bennett sat outside of Rudy's Bar in his parked car, seeing that Claire had already arrived. They'd planned to meet inside at 8:30, and his car's clock told him he was already five minutes late. He looked straight ahead, both hands still on the wheel, and watched as people walked past his car. He waited another moment, then cut the engine, pocketed his keys and stepped out onto the pavement.

Inside, trying to appear casual, he walked up to the bar where Claire sat, chatting to the female bartender.

"Hey!" she said when she saw him walk up. She stood up and gave him a quick hug. "Did you just now get off work? That's a long day..."

"Yeah, well everyone put in extra hours today because Caputo wanted to make sure nothing went wrong for the first day of the filming."

"Guess you have me to blame then," she said with a laugh, "sorry about that."

Before he could reply the bartender walked up and asked what he'd like.

"Whatever dark beer you have on tap," he told her, sitting down next to Claire.

"So," she said, sipping her vodka cranberry, "Long time no see. What have you been doing since college? I think I heard you went in to the marines?"

He nodded as his beer was placed in front of him. "Yeah, I didn't really know what I wanted to do after I dropped out, and my dad had always wanted me to join the military so I thought 'what the Hell'." He laughed nervously.

She smiled. "Wow, that's great. And you said you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"How long have you two been together?"

"About six months, I think," he took a swig of his beer. "Are you dating anyone?"

"Not at the moment, no. I just got out of a long term relationship actually. Six years." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, that is long. Longer than I've ever been with anyone."

"It was time for a change. So how did you meet...I'm sorry, what's your girlfriend's name?"

"Her name's...Mary. We met uh, at a bowling alley." He'd watched _The Big Lebowski _on cable last night, so that was the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, that's nice! So you both like to bowl?"

"All the time," he smiled, "We, uh, we just love the sport of it, you know?"

* * *

_August 1st, 1993_

_One day when John was seven, he was in the basement where his step dad kept all his model trains. That was his hobby, setting the trains up and controlling them with a little remote; he probably had almost a hundred different ones. He'd always told John to stay away from them because they were very valuable._

_So one day John went down there and he had only wanted to look, but one thing led to another and he somehow managed to knock over an entire shelf of trains and all their accessories._

_Well, his step dad heard the noise and came running down the basement stairs to see him standing next to the pile of his beloved, now destroyed trains. Grabbing his arm, he hit him once across the face, just once, but got him good. John started to cry immediately, and then they both heard his mother's voice scream, "Get away from him!" And then she was running down the stairs, her face looking angrier than John had ever seen._

_His step dad let his arm go, and his mom pulled him to her and said in a low voice, "If you ever touch him again I'll slit your throat."_

_John stared up at her. His mother, a devout Mormon, had never so much as used the word 'damn' in front of him, let alone threaten to pull a knife on her husband. Nevertheless, that was the first and last time his step dad ever hit him, and later that fall he and his mother packed their bags and left him for good._

* * *

_"Mommy, can we go to the pool?" Daya moaned, "It's so hot."_

_"Stop your whining," Aleida snapped at her._

_"Can we turn the cold on then? Please, mommy?"_

_"Sure, Dayanara. As soon as you start working three jobs and paying the rent. Just go stick your head in the fridge. But don't hold it open too long, that shit costs money too." Aleida took a long drag from her cigarette, clutching a beer can in her other hand, her eyes glued to the tv._

_Five year old Daya got up from the floor where she'd been working on a Cinderella coloring book and went in to the kitchen. She opened up the fridge and stood between the door and the shelves, closing it as far as it would go. The only items that sat inside were two half empty six packs, a jar of salsa and a carton of milk. She thought that maybe, just maybe, if she made herself small enough she could fit right on the shelf next to the Bud Light. _

_If she made herself small enough, maybe no one would ever find __her, and she could just disappear. _

* * *

It was the first time since her incarceration that Daya's siblings had come to see her. They all looked so different, even just after six months.

"What'd you get for your birthday?" she asked Christina, who had just turned twenty.

"Cesar got me an iphone. But then Lucy dropped it and it cracked." She gave the younger girl a mean look.

"I didn't mean to!" Lucy protested.

Daya smiled; it was good to hear her sisters fighting like old times. It was comforting to her.

"Daya, when are you coming home?" Lucy asked, looking up at her.

"Before you know it, baby. Hey, how's seventh grade going?"

"I don't like riding the bus. I wish you could walk me."

"Well at least you have Eva with you, right?" Daya looked at Eva.

"I don't want to sit with a bunch of seventh graders," she said, "I sit with my eighth grade friends."

Daya sighed and looked at Emiliano. "So you're getting ready to graduate, huh? You excited?"

He just nodded, having always been the shy one of the bunch.

"Hey, Daya is that him?" Christina asked, lowering her voice and looking at someone behind Daya.

Daya looked over her shoulder to see that Bennett was on duty overlooking the visiting room. They made eye contact for a brief moment.

Turning back around, she said, "Who told you?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "I listen in on Aleida's and Cesar's phone calls, duh. He's pretty hot."

"Listen, you can't say nothing about that to anyone. People think my real baby daddy's this other fucker and he got locked up in prison."

"Yeah, I know, we saw the news. I'm not gonna say anything." She looked past Daya again, settling her gaze on Bennett.

"Stop staring at him," Daya said.

"I can't help it," Christina smiled at her, "My new brother-in-law's hot."

* * *

It was after dinner, and Daya had lingered in the kitchen, busying herself so that she'd be left alone with Bennett. When everyone else was gone, she stood leaning up against the doorway, smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, standing up, having been retying his shoe.

She just kept smiling and raised her eyes knowingly.

"Now?" He questioned, knowing exactly what she was implying; he'd gotten used to her pregnancy mood swings. Depressed one minute, horny the next, five minutes later yelling at him.

She just shrugged and smiled again, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Is everyone gone?" Bennett asked, looking around the dark hallway as if expecting someone to jump out from behind a trashcan. Daya just kept on grinning innocently.

"Are you gonna say something," he asked, half laughing.

"Fuck me, John," she said, not so innocent anymore.

"Woah, Daya, you gotta be more quiet. We're not in a closet, anyone can hear."

She walked up to him slowly, and when she was standing right in front of him, she lightly touched her index finger to his lips. "Shh," she whispered, "I want you to fuck me."

...

Relieved to finally be alone, she casually gripped his broad shoulders and roughly shoved him up against the wall, meeting his lips almost forcefully with her own. He tangled his hands in her hair and she gripped his biceps, turning her head to the side to deepen the kiss.

"This is safe, right?" he asked breathlessly against her lips, "You know, since what happened yesterday with the bleeding." She simply grabbed between his legs in response, figuring that will suffice in ending his worries.

She'd begun fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when they both heard a noise, and the door of the closet they were in swung open. They separated, rushing to button and zip everything back up, but they weren't quick enough; Caputo had seen, and was now standing in the doorway, a mix exasperation and utter horror written on his face.

After a few seconds of opening and closing his mouth he just said, "What the fucking fuck?!"

"Sir. Mr. Caputo," Bennett stammered, "This looks bad, I know."

"Shitnuts, Bennett. I warned you about this." He pointed at him, looking him right in the eye. "I gave you a chance and you blew it." He turned to Daya. "You're headed to max, inmate."

"No, please," Daya said, looking to John for help.

"Sir, it's my fault. Don't punish her, move me to another prison. It's my fault."

"I cannot have this!" he exclaimed, "Not with the, the fucking documentary people filming every damn thing. What if it was one of them you caught you, huh?"

"Please," Bennett was desperate now. He looked at Caputo, hoping to appeal to any ounce of sympathy he had left in him.

"I said..." Caputo looked back and forth between the two of them, "she's headed down the hill. Say goodbye to Ms. Diaz, Daddy."


	4. Chapter 4

_October 16th, 1994_

_When Daya was very young, her grandmother used to sit her on her knee and tell her stories about her teenage years in the Dominican Republic, how she would sneak out late at night to meet up with her boyfriend Carlos, who she later had Aleida with. Her grandmother was usually quite a stern woman, but she'd always had a soft spot for Daya._

_Daya would sit there and listen wide eyed, hanging onto every last word her abuela said. She'd told her about when she and Carlos packed up and moved to America, making their immigration sound like some magical journey, when in reality it was one of the most grim experiences she'd ever had._

_And then one day she turned Daya around in her lap so she faced her._

_"There will come a day," she told her, "when you will do extraordinario things. Even if you don't know it now, eres muy especial, Dayanara."_

* * *

Years later, Daya still held on to those words, thinking that one day she'll live up to her grandmother's expectations. Even when she was first arrested, she told herself that she could still turn things around; there had to be more to life than that.

As she was brought through the entrance of the maximum facility prison, hands cuffed tightly, she said a silent apology to her abuela.

When she'd first arrived at prison she'd thought she'd entered Hell. Little had she known, max made Litchfield look like a four star hotel.

At Litchfield, people, including guards, had cut her slack because they knew she was pregnant. Here, she was just another inmate; no one cared if she was raped or not. She was put right next to violent offenders, people who had killed and assualted others. What was stopping them from hurting daya?

"Room 213, Diaz," a female CO read off a sheet of paper.

"That's me," Daya said quietly, stepping forward away from the group of other new arrivals.

The CO unlocked the door and said to all of them, "You stay in your room all day except for meals. Every Sunday you get two hours of rec time. In two weeks you'll be evaluated and you'll have the opportunity to be granted an hour of rec time every day for good behavior. You're to follow the prison regulations at all times in and out of your bunks. These rules can be found in the book next to your doors. I suggest you learn them and learn them well." She gestured for Daya to enter the room, then shut the door loudly behind her.

Inside the dorm, there were three other women. One was sitting up on the top bed of one of the bunks, and the other two were down below.

"Who are you?" the one on the top bunk asked as soon as Daya stepped in the room. She had straight, choppy auburn colored hair, dark eyes and a large scar on her face, descending from just under her eye to her jawline.

Daya didn't say anything to her, just walked over to the empty bed and set down her things.

"Bitch, I axed you a question!" The girl hopped down from the bunk and crossed the small room to where Daya stood.

"I came from up the hill," she said flatly.

The girl snorted. "_I came from up the hill_," she repeated in a mocking tone.

"You was in minimum?" One of the women sitting on the lower bunk asked.

"Yeah," Daya replied quietly.

"You're not the one who got fucked by the CO and knocked up, are you? We heard it was a Mexican chick."

"How'd you even hear about that?"

"Shit gets around, even here." The third one stood up. "You got a name?"

"Daya. Diaz."

"I'm Samson," she gestured to the women she'd been sitting next to, "She's Tucker." She glanced at the one who'd jumped down from the top bunk, then smirked at Daya. "And we call her Body Bag. We'll let you use your imagination to figure out why."

* * *

_January 6th, 2001_

_The piece of paper in John's hands crumpled and creased under the burden of his tightly clenched fist as he stood outside the office door with "GUIDANCE" written in block letters. Apparently, in New Jersey, guidance meant handing a kid a schedule, saying good luck and have a nice day._

_The crowd around him bustled noisily; groups of girls all shouting over each other, gliding through the halls as one big, chattering mass. A kid with glasses and a middle part, carrying some type of music case. Two middle aged teachers, both clutching coffee mugs in one hand, briefcases in the other, marching along, probably arguing over whether calculus or physics is more fun._

_As John half listened, he caught fragments of conversation here and there: "Karen, I was only pretending to forget your birthday to surprise you!"; "For some reason, I'm really attracted to Uncle Billy from _It's A Wonderful Life_,"; "We're too old for this, Dan."  
_

_For the first time since the man who'd introduced himself as Mr. Dave handed it to him, John glanced down at the piece of paper._

Student: Bennett, Johnathan, _it read, _Sex: male. DOB: 9-26-86. Grade: 9. Locker: 113. Combo: 4-14-11. Homeroom: Kane. Counselor: Roberts

_Below this, it simply listed eight classes, almost the exact same ones he'd taken in Albuquerque, only with different teachers._

Woodshop I, Algebra I, Freshman English, Physical Education 9, Biology, World History, Study Hall, Economics.

_It seemed way too small there. His high school back in New Mexico had way more lockers, and they were dark blue, not tan like these ones. Also, he wasn't used to having just one floor, but he supposed a student body of six hundred didn't need two stories and ten trailers._

_The short hallway that he stood in was made up of thick glass windows that revealed a snow covered courtyard decorated with little Greek-looking statues. In his mind he visualized the windowless, cement box he'd spent last semester in, but at least it was a box where there'__d been a place for him. He glanced down at the paper again. Woodshop, room 120 with Mr. MacDonald._

_He don't know how to get to room one-twenty from where he stood, between a girls bathroom and a library, so he figured he might as well cut first, period, and second while he was at it. It was a short ten steps to the nearest exit, and he took them hastily, pushing himself past everyone on their way to class. He shoved the door open, and stepped outside, hearing it close behind him with a thump, as he slumped down a few rusting, metal stairs into the underclassmen parking lot. Stepping off the curb, he crushed the piece of paper in his hand and dropped it in a pile of gray, gravel filled snow._

_"Fuck you, dad," he muttered under his breath as he made his way across the lot, the winter air biting at his face and stinging his lungs. He walked off campus and onto a bike trail that ran adjacent to the road beside the school, and heard his dad's voice in his head from this morning._

"Don't go getting yourself into any trouble. I can still send you upstate to live with uncle Pat; I know he'd be happy to put you to work on the farm."

_John had grunted some kind of reply as he passed by the kitchen where his dad sat having his morning whiskey and cigarette. On his way out the door he reached into his dad's coat pocket and took out his pack of Marlboro's. Remembering this now, he took off his backpack and unzipped the front pocket. Walking over to a tree near the trail, he took out the pack and a lighter, and sat down leaning up against the bark._

* * *

"What the fuck did you do?" Aleida spat at John the minute they were out of earshot.

"We were in the closet and Caputo walked in...everything happened so fast, I didn't know what to do."

"Well, you're gonna fix it. You're gonna kiss whoever's ass you need to kiss, and you're gonna get Daya and my granddaughter the fuck outta there."

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "I'm trying. I'm doing everything I can."

"Try harder," her gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she turned on her heels and walked off, leaving him standing there alone.


End file.
